Kitabı oku: «Cleg Kelly, Arab of the City: His Progress and Adventures», sayfa 25
ADVENTURE LIX.
THE BEECH HEDGE
"And the queer thing o' it a' is," said Cleg, "that there's no as muckle as a brass farthin's worth o' lyin' siller to be found."
"Ye tak' it brave and cool, my man," said Mistress Fraser. "My certes, gin I had been left thirty thoosand pound, and then could find nane o't, I wad be fair oot o' my mind wi' envy and spite. Save us a', man. Ye hae nae spunk in ye ava."
"And what a wonderfu' thing is it," said Mirren Douglas, "that Maister Iverach, the young lad frae Edinburgh, gets a' the land and the hooses, but no a penny forbye!"
They were sitting – a large company for so small a place – in the little ben room of Sandyknowes, with the roses again looking in the window. For another spring had come, and a new year was already stretching itself awake from its winter swaddling bands.
"What was it that the lawyer man wrote aboot your bequest?" asked Mistress Fraser.
"But a' my lying money in the house o' Barnbogle and about the precincts thereof, to be the property of Cleg Kelly, my present body servant, in regard of his faithful tendance and unselfishness during the past four years," quoted Cleg, leaning his head back with the air of a languid prince. He was sitting on the great chest in which Mirren kept all the best of her napery and household linen.
"My certes, ye tak' it braw and canny," repeated Mistress Fraser. "What says Vara to a' this?"
Vara came out from the little inner room where she had been dressing for the afternoon.
"What says Vara?" said Mistress Fraser, looking a little curiously at the girl as she entered. Half-a-year of absolute freedom from care and anxiety in the clear air of Sandyknowes had brought the fire to her eye and the rose to her cheek.
"I think," she said, soberly, "that Cleg will find the siller yet. Or, if he doesn't, he will be able to do withoot it!"
"It will make an awfu' difference to his plenishing when he comes to set up a hoose," said the mother of eleven; "there's naebody in the world kens what it tak's to furnish a hoose, but them that has begun wi' naething and leeved through it!"
"Mr. Iverach is comin' frae Edinburgh the day," said Cleg, "to see aboot knockin' doon the auld hoose o' Barnbogle."
"He's no willing to bide in it," said Mirren Douglas. "Lod, I dinna wonder. Wha could bide in a place wi' siccan a chamber o' horrors doon the cellar stairs as that was!"
Which showed that some one must have been telling tales.
"I'm to gang and meet him," said Cleg. "Vara, will ye come? Ye may chance to forgather wi' a friend that ye ken."
Vara Kavannah nodded brightly, and glanced at the widow Douglas.
"If Mirren will gie a look to the bairns," she said.
At that moment there was a noisy rush past the window, and certain ferocious yells came in at the door.
"Preserve me," said Mistress Fraser, "thae bairns are never hame frae the schule already! Faith, I maun awa' hame, or my evil loons and limmers will no leave a bite o' bread uneaten, or a dish o' last year's jam unsupped in a' my hoose!"
But as she rose to go her husband's form darkened the doorway.
"Tam Fraser," she cried, "what are ye doing there? Are ye no awa' at Auld Graham's funeral? A lawyer deid! The deil will dee next."
"I hae nae blacks guid enough to gang in," said Tam Fraser; "ye spend a' my leevin' on thae bairns o' yours."
"Hoot, man," retorted his wife, "gang as ye are, an' tak' your character on your back, and ye'll be black eneuch for ony funeral."
Tam Fraser stood a moment prospecting in his mind for a suitable reply.
"Meg," he said at last, "dinna learn to be ill-tongued. It doesna become ye. D'ye ken, I was juist thinkin' as I cam' in that ye grow younger every year. Ye are looking fell bonny the day!"
"Faith," said his wife sharply, "I am vexed I canna return the compliment. Ye are lookin' juist like a craw-bogle, and that's a Guid's truth."
"Aweel, guidwife," said Tam, seeing a chance now to get in his counter, "if ye had only been ceevil eneuch, ye micht e'en hae telled a lee as weel as mysel'!"
And with this he betook himself over the dyke, leaving his wife for once without a shot in her locker.
Vara had gone quietly at Cleg's bidding and put on her hat. This demurely sober lass had quite enough of beauty to make the country lads hang a foot, and look after her with a desire to speak as she passed by on her way to kirk and market.
Vara and Cleg walked quietly along down the avenue by the shortest road to the house of Barnbogle.
"Vara," said Cleg, "I think we will do very well this year with the flooers and the bees – forbye the milk."
"I am glad to hear it, for Mirren's sake," answered Vara, without, however, letting her eyes rest on the lad.
"I selled baith my barrels o' milk and the ten pund o' butter forbye this morning, a' in the inside o' an hour," said Cleg.
For during the last half year Cleg had been farming the produce of Mirren's little holding with notable success.
"Vara," said Cleg, in a shy, hesitating manner, "in a year or twa I micht be able to tak' in the Springfield as weel. Do ye think that ye could" – Cleg paused for a word dry enough to express his meaning – "come ower by and help me to tak' care o't? I hae aye likit ye, Vara, ye ken."
"I dinna ken, I'm sure, Cleg," said Vara soberly; "there's the bairns, ye ken, Hugh and Gavin."
"Bring them too, of course," said Cleg. "I never thocht o' onything else."
"But then there's Mirren, and she wad fair break her heart," protested Vara.
"Bring her too!" said Cleg practically.
He had thought the whole subject over. They were now coming near the old house of Barnbogle, which its new owner had doomed to destruction. Cleg glanced up at the tall grey mass of it.
"I'm some dootfu' that we will never touch that siller," he said.
"Then," said Vara firmly, "we can work for mair. If we dinna get it, it's a sign that we are better wantin' it."
She glanced at the youth by her side as she spoke.
"Vara," said Cleg quickly, "ye are awesome bonny when ye speak like that."
Perhaps he remembered Tam Fraser, for he said no more.
Vara walked on with her eyes still demurely on the ground. They were just where the high path looks down on the corner of the ancient orchard.
"Vara," said Cleg, "what's your hurry for a minute? There's – there's a terrible bonny view frae hereaboots."
Cleg, the uninstructed, was plunging into deep waters. Vara turned towards the garden beneath at his word. There were three people to be seen in it. First there was a young woman in a bright summer dress, with a young man who walked very close beside her. Over a thick wall of beech, which went half across the orchard, an older man was standing meditatively with his hands clasped behind his back. He was apparently engaged in trying how much tobacco smoke he could put upon the market in a given time, for he was almost completely lost from sight in a blue haze.
The young people walked up and down, now in view of their meditative elder and now hidden from him by the hedge. And as Cleg and Vara watched, they noticed a wonderful circumstance. As often as the young man and his companion were behind the young beech hedge, his arm stole round the waist of the summer dress; but so soon as they emerged upon the gravel path, lo! they were again walking demurely at least a yard apart.
The strangest thing about it all was, that the young woman appeared to be entirely unconscious of the circumstance.
"That's an awesome nice view," said Cleg, when the pair beneath had done this four or five times. And such is the fatal force of example that he put his own arm about Vara's waist each time the young man in the orchard below showed him how. And yet, stranger than all, Vara also appeared to be entirely unconscious of the fact.
This went on till the pair beneath were at their tenth promenade – the elderly man over the beech hedge was still studying intently an overgrown bed of rhubarb – when, at the innermost corner, the young lady in the summer dress paused to pluck a spray of honeysuckle. The youth's arm was about her waist at the moment. Perhaps it was that she had become conscious of it for the first time, or perhaps because it cinctured the summer dress a little more tightly than the circumstances absolutely demanded. However this may be, certain it is that the girl turned her head a little back over her shoulder, perhaps to reproach the young man, to request him to remove his property, and in the future to keep it from trespassing on his neighbour's premises. Cleg and Vara could not tell from the distance. But, at any rate, the young man and the young woman stood thus a long moment, she looking up with her head turned a little back and he looking intently down into her eyes. Then their lips drew together, and softly, as if they sighed, rested a moment upon each other.
"It's an awesome nice view," said Cleg, with conviction and emphasis. And forthwith did likewise.
The old man with his hands behind his back had a little while before ceased his meditations upon the rhubarb leaves, and had walked quietly all unperceived to the corner of the beech hedge. Here he stood looking down towards the corner of the orchard, where the summer dress was plainly in view. Then he raised his eyes to the road above, where stood Vara and Cleg Kelly. His pipe fell from his mouth with astonishment, but he did not stop to pick it up. He turned and stole hastily away on tiptoe.
Then he too sighed, and that more than once, as soon as he had got out of the orchard into the garden.
"It's just thirty years since – last July," he said.
And Mr. Robert Greg Tennant remained longer in meditation than ever, this time upon a spindling rose which was drooping for want of water.
ADVENTURE LX.
CLEG'S TREASURE-TROVE COMES TO HIM
Presently Cleg and Vara walked down, and when they came into the garden they found Miss Celie Tennant in animated conversation with her father. She was clinging very close to his arm, as though she never could be induced upon any pretext to leave it for a moment. The old man was smiling somewhat grimly. And Vara thought what a little hypocrite Celie was. The Junior Partner was much interested in a curious pattern of coloured stones, which the General had arranged with his own hand about a toy fountain. Five more innocent and unconcerned people it would have been impossible to meet with in broad Scotland.
But when Cleg Kelly was introduced to Mr. Robert Greg Tennant, he was astonished to notice an unmistakable air of knowledge in that gentleman's face. Indeed, something that was not far from a wink wrinkled his cheek. The original Cleg rose triumphant – and he winked back.
Then Mr. Greg Tennant put his hands into his pockets, and strolled off whistling a refrain which was popular at that remote date —
"I saw Esau kissing Kate,
And he saw I saw Esau!"
Cleg went away with the Junior Partner to take another look at the whole house, which was now wholly dismantled and about to be pulled down to the foundations. The Junior Partner, who was henceforward to be a sleeping partner only, intended to build a mansion on another part of the property, so that all memory of the horrors which had been contained within the Red Door was to be blotted out.
"And the sooner the better, sir," said Mr. Tennant, grimly. He had just joined them.
"When I have money enough!" stammered the Junior Partner, not sure of his meaning.
He looked about him. Cleg was still exploring far ahead in the ruined tower, from the windows of which the frames and bars had been already removed.
"I was going to speak to you, sir," said the Junior Partner, "but the fact is, sir, till to-day I have had no permission and no right."
The elder man clapped the younger upon the back.
"All right," he said heartily; "I have been behind beech hedges myself in my time. But I must say," he went on, "that I generally kept a better watch on the old man!"
The Junior Partner blushed red as a rose – a peony rose.
"And if that is your meaning," continued Mr. Tennant, "why, get the house built. I daresay there's tocher enough to go with my little lass to pay for the stone and lime."
At this moment a whirlwind of primrose-coloured summer lawn, twinkling black stockings, and silver-buckled shoes fell upon the two of them, and reduced the Junior Partner to a state of smiling, vacuous inanity.
"Come, come quick!" Celie Tennant cried, with the most charming impetuosity, seizing them each by a hand and dragging them forward towards the brick kitchen. "We have found it – at least Vara has! There's millions of gold – all new sovereigns and things. And I'm to be bridesmaid!"
What the Junior Partner made out of this no one can tell; for at the time he was certainly not in the full possession of his senses. But Mr. Tennant was well used to his impetuous daughter's stormy moods, and understood that something which had been lost was at last found.
Celie imperiously swept them along with her into the little brick building.
"Not so fast, you small pocket hurricane!" cried her father, breathlessly. "At my time of life I really cannot rush along like an American trotter!"
They entered the kitchen. Vara was standing at the table at which Cleg used to cut the bacon for the General's breakfast and his own. She was calmly opening tin after tin of Chicago corned beef, cans of which stood in rows round the walls. Each was full to the brim of bright newly minted sovereigns.
"It is Cleg's money," cried Celie wildly, "and I found it all myself – or, at least, Vara did, which is the same thing. There were just two tins, one at each end, full of real, common, nasty beef for eating, and the rest are all sovereigns. And I'm to be bridesmaid."
And, though a Sunday school teacher of long standing and infinite gravity, the little lady danced a certain reckless breakdown which she had learned in the Knuckle Dusters' Club from Cleaver's boy.
"Well, Miss Quicksilver, you had better go and tell him!" said her father; "he is in the tower yonder."
Mr. Donald Iverach was starting out of the door to do it himself; but Celie seized him tragically; "Father – Donald – how can you?" she cried more in sorrow than in anger at their stupidity and ignorance. "Of course, let her go!"
And Vara went out of the door to seek for Cleg.
"Oh, I wish it was me!" Celie said wistfully and ungrammatically, stamping her foot. "It's so splendidly romantic! Donald, why didn't you make it turn out so that I could have come and said to you, 'I have a secret. Hush! You are heir to a hidden treasure!' You never do anything really nice for me!"
"Why, because the old man didn't leave it to me," said the Junior Partner.
"And a good job for you, too, you great goose," cried Celie, daringly, "for if he had I should certainly have made love to Cleg, and we would have set up a market garden together. I am sure I should have liked that very much."
And at that time Vara was telling Cleg in the tower that his treasure had come to him at last.
And Cleg was sure of it.
LETTER INCLOSED
(Being a fragment from the postscript of a note, dated some years later, from Mrs. Donald Iverach to the Girl over the Wall – who has been her dearest friend ever since her engagement was announced.)
"And the funny thing is that, after all, they have a market garden! I've just been to see them, and they live in the loveliest little house down near the sea. And Cleg says he is going to make their little Donald (called after my Incumbrance, the old Dear) a market gardener – 'Fruits in their Seasons,' and that kind of thing, you know. And I think it's so sensible of them. For, of course, they could never have gone into society, though she is certainly most charmingly behaved. But Cleg likes to go barefoot about the garden still, and you know that is not quite usual. Gavin is at the Academy, and is dux of his class. He is what is called a 'gyte,' which is a title of honour there.
"And what do you think? Cleaver's boy is married, and they have got a baby also – not so lovely as its father was, but the sweetest thing! He is foreman now, and Janet never thinks of telling a fib, even to afternoon callers. Don't you think that's rather much? Oh, I forgot! Her uncle came in while I was there, and said to Mirren Douglas – that's the little widow, you know, who lives with Cleg and Vara – 'I saw Hugh Kavannah walking to-day on Princes Street with little Miss Briggs!' But I don't think there can be anything in it – do you? For, after all, she's a lady, and he is only a student. Of course, when we were girls – but then this is so different.
"Kit Kennedy has just been matriculated or rusticated or something. Everybody is very pleased. He is going in for agriculture, and tells Cleg when to sow his strawberry seed.
"And the man who used to be Netherby carrier has come to take their stuff to market – so nice for him. And the baby is the prettiest you ever saw. But you should see mine. He is a darling, if you like. He has four teeth, and I am quite sure he tries to say Papa! – though Donald laughs, and says it is only wind in his little – . That was Donald who came and joggled my elbow. He is a HORROR!
"And just think, Cleg Kelly has built, and Donald has furnished, the most wonderful Club in the South Back of the Canongate. It was opened last week. Bailie Holden – who is now Lord Provost, and a very good one – opened it. But Cleg made the best speech. 'Mind, you chaps,' he said – and they were all as quiet as mice when he was speaking – 'mind, you chaps, if I hear o' ony yin o' ye making a disturbance, or as muckle as spittin' on the floor – weel, ye ken me!'"
